


Pajamas in the Keys

by Azure_K_Mello



Series: Scrutiny and Speculation: The Media Series [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Established Relationship, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:38:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_K_Mello/pseuds/Azure_K_Mello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set ten years after “Bugs and Gold” Clark is slowly going mad and it all comes to a head when the press starts to question Superman’s sleepwear.  </p><p>Clark’s age: 26</p><p>Note: This is a sequel if you haven’t read that you will miss some of the references.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pajamas in the Keys

“Lex!” He spluttered pulling ugly pants over ugly tights. He wasn’t sure if he hated the Superman or the Clark Kent Daily Planet Reporter disguise most. He hated Monday mornings more than either outfit. “It’s not funny!”

Nearly falling out of his desk chair Lex said, “It’s a little funny, come on Clark.”

“Why did you put it on the internet? Why did you sign it?”

“It’s just a joke.”

“No sex for,” he thought about threatening days, weeks, but it would have been a lie and Clark didn’t lie to Lex, not anymore, “hours. I’m not coming home for lunch.”

“That’s mean,” Lex was pouting and Clark was carefully avoiding looking at him. “They’re funny, I wanted one of them to be true.”

“Yeah? And what do I do next time Superman saves someone and the press flock and ask if it’s true?”

“You could laugh it off.”

“Lex, the whole point of Superman and me being separate was so that I didn’t have to lie. And now my options are lying or looking stupid.” He grabbed his briefcase and walked to the penthouse’s elevator. “See you later.”

He was genuinely pissed. When Lex and he had come up with Superman it had been so simple. He wouldn’t have to lie to anyone. He could be Clark and Superman without lying. He could both admit to being from Krypton and be himself. Lex had convinced him that not disclosing was not the same as lying and it had been good for a while. Lex had said that supervillains always go after superheroes but that they take turns. The Joker never went after Bruce when The Penguin was in town. If Superman was always battling Lex Luthor then no other villains would seek his attention. Villains don’t like sharing so Lex, for the most part, would keep bad guys out of Metropolis because people would think it was his territory. With one less thing to worry about, Clark could just go about stopping hurricanes, muggings, and the plans he and Lex cooked up. The plans were getting more ridiculous and funny like a “death ray”. Lex wanted it to be purple, Clark wanted shiny, they were going to compromise. 

But now Clark was feeling fake. He wasn’t Superman and he wasn’t the incompetent third rate reporter. He was a great reporter but how can you report when all the news is about Superman and you’re him? The only other story was Lex Luthor, and Clark was married to the man. He was feeling more like a loser and a fraud and before this he’d been about to ask Lex to take him some place far away where he could just be himself. He could commute to Metropolis for Supe’s day job and live some place nice with a weekly column or something. Now this. It just wasn’t his week. 

His cell phone rang and he picked up with a, “Clark Kent speaking.”

“It’s me,” said Bruce.

“I hate being Superman.”

“Clark? Where are you?”

“I’m in our private elevator. Don’t worry, I’m not stupid. How do you cope?”

“You mean because I’m neither Bruce Wayne Moron Sex Fiend nor Batman? I unwind by watching TV with Albert and complaining about having really cold feet.”

“You’re getting married?”

“No, I meant literally. No matter what I spend on the heating bill my feet always get ice cold. Look, that girl, Chloe, who was at your dinner party the other night. She’s in Gotham, right?”

“She works for The Gotham Centurion. Why?”

“She’s pretty, she likes eighties movies, she sort of told me off, and she thinks I’m funny.” 

“Wait, is she gonna…”

“No, Clark, I wouldn’t ask you to set me up with your hot childhood friend if I was just looking for someone attractive to have on my arm for a night. I want to take her out to dinner. Do you want to ask her before giving me her number?”

“Bruce, if she wants to say no she’ll say no, this isn’t high school, you don’t need a wing man.” Bruce laughed and Clark rattled off the number as the elevator doors opened. “I have to go, now. Us plebs need to work for our money.”

“Bring home the bacon, boy.” They hung up, both laughing. Clark walked the twelve city blocks at a brisk but human speed and arrived only ten minutes late.

The Chief called him in almost instantly. “Kent!”

Clark rolled his eyes at Lois but marched quickly across the office to the office. He shut the door behind himself and Perry dropped the anger, “Is Lex really that stupid?” Clark shrugged. “People are already buzzing about it… Now, as to the other thing-”

“I can’t cover Superman.”

“Why not?”

“You of all people know why not. It’s unethical.” He still felt like a teenager around the man. He’d been pleased when he’d heard Perry White had sobered up. 

When Clark graduated at the top of his class Perry had offered him a job right off the bat. He had laughed saying he owed Clark a chance. Clark had said he might need quite flexible hours and Perry had responded, “Because you need time to fly about in a cape?” To the stunned silence he said, “Please, I’m sober now, Kent. Anyone who knew you then could see it now… If you’re going to make news I don’t see why you shouldn’t be a reporter.”

“It is not unethical. You always present nothing but facts. Why would factually reporting on Superman be unethical?”

Clark slumped in his chair, “Sir-”

“You will have to get over it at some point, Kent. He’s holding you back. Is the Jerardie piece done yet? It’s going to be the biggest scandal this state has ever seen. I can’t believe you got the exclusive. How did you even find out about it?” 

“Informant of mine. Then it was just digging through paper work, finding facts. It’s all fact checked to death, it cannot be denied. He’s raped five women, spent eight million dollars of tax money on drugs and several hot air balloons, and while lobbying against flexible immigration laws he had fifteen illegal immigrants (with papers he himself falsified) on his private staff. There are no quotes because I didn’t want this to get out.” 

“I thought Superman avoided politics; he said he has to be impartial.”

“He is. But I pay taxes, work, was educated, and grew up in this state. I vote in every election. And as a citizen of this community I think we, the people, have the right to know what our governor (the most popular is thirty years) is doing while in office.”

“Well, that’s fantastic. Wonderful, we’ll run it tomorrow. But, Kent, next time there’s a Superman issue you have to cover it.” Clark opened his mouth to argue and Perry said, “Cover it or I fire you. You need to do this, Clark, every time he’s in the news you’re a little more detached. You don’t cover it and I fire you. I’ll give you a great recommendation, and anyone will want you once tomorrow’s paper hits. You are breaking the best story in Kansas history. But you’re fired if you don’t cover Superman.” 

Midmorning he heard a woman screaming. And left work, saying he would get coffee. He found the woman hanging off a roof. She’d meant to jump, changed her mind, and slipped. He swooped in and grabbed her saying, “Look, I’m going to take you to Met. General, you should talk to someone about this. Plus, you’ve twisted your ankle.” He flew slowly, people got freaked out when he rushed. And he placed her down at the emergency room entrance. He went inside with her to met a Dr. McDonald who seemed nice. Clark wanted to ask if he was raised on a farm, if he had a cow, with a moo-moo here and a moo-moo there but he refrained. 

Outside on the hospital stairs there were at least two dozen reporters Clark rolled his eyes and said, “Guys, can we move away from the entrance there are sick people and ambulances.” 

Everyone moved a few feet to the left and stared shouting, “Superman, is it true?”

“Is what true?” 

“The latest buzz on the Chuck Facts website is that while others wear Superman pajamas you wear Chuck Norris pajamas.” 

It was jump time and Clark swallowed before he said, “I got my mom a computer so she would always know if I’m at some world emergency-”

“You have a mom? Superman, you’re the last son of Krypton.”

“Yes, that’s true. But I didn’t come to Earth as an adult. I have a mom who raised me and worries about me. And this way, if she’s worried, she can get to the internet even if she can’t reach me. And seeing a picture of me stopping a forest fire with my hands or something can convince her I’m eating more than me just saying so.” Everyone laughed and Clark said, “So anyway, I really liked Walker Texas Ranger when I was a kid. She found these WTR PJ pants on the internet. They’re really comfortable too. They could have been Dukes of Hazard, because she would have gotten me those too because I liked the Dukes, but she found WTR ones first. They don’t actually have Chuck’s face on them. But yeah, I guess, technically I wear Chuck Norris PJs.”

“How did this information come to light?”

“My spouse is way too into that website.”

“You’re married?”

“I’m not asexual.” Clark felt his blush rising and tried to remind himself that Superman did not blush.

“But it was signed Lex Luthor.”

“That’s just my spouse’s sense of humor. Everyone knows that Mr. Luthor and I have issues so by signing it as Lex Luthor it creates an effect. Anyway, if that’s all, I must be off.” He didn’t wait, just flew off. As he flew back towards work his cell phone rang. “Clark Kent speaking.”

“You shouldn’t answer like that while flying above the city. I could be anyone.”

“Hey, what’s up, babe?” He smiled into the speaker.

“I just saw you on the news. I liked the explanation about Martha, them Duke boys, my sense of humor, and the fact that you aren’t asexual. Great press conference. You didn’t look stupid. Come home for lunch?” 

“I said no sex for hours.”

“It’s been over three hours.”

“The world now knows that I wear Chuck Norris PJs because of you. No sex until after work. Bye, Lex, see you later.” He hung up while laughing. The phone rang again. “Lex-”

“No, honey, it’s me.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“You mentioned me on the news.”

“I did. I figured it would make owning Chuck Norris PJs look less strange.”

“Did Lex really put it on the internet?”

“Who else?”

“Oh, don’t be too mad at him. Clark, you have to see why it’s funny.”

“I want my PJs to be private. I want my life to be private. And I’m starting to feel like I have split personalities. I want to quit my job, move to Aruba, and get a foreign correspondence position.”

“Clark, are you serious?”

“Not entirely, Lex hates really hot climates. I gotta go, Mom. I’m going to quit my job. Call you later, love you.” He landed on the planet roof, found his stashed clothes, and quickly redressed.

He took the elevator down to his floor and went straight to Perry White’s office. He left the door open behind him. With an eyebrow raised the Chief asked, “Where’s the coffee, Kent?”

“I tripped and spilled it.”

“And where’s my story on Superman?” Perry’s look challenged him. 

Clark looked away. “Superman, Sir?”

“He was half a block away from the coffee kiosk. Are you telling me you didn’t even notice?”

“Well, the coffee was really hot… and on my shoe.” He looked Perry in the eye and said, “Before you say it, I quit. I’ll clean out my desk and you never have to see me again. You don’t want a foreign correspondent, do you?”

Perry raised an eyebrow. “If you get out of the office quietly and quickly I’ll give you that glowing recommendation. I’ll have it to you within the day along with your last pay check.”

Clark nodded, “Completely fair, Chief.”

He walked to the door but Perry said, “And, Kent: congratulations on tomorrow’s front page. I read the article. It’s going to be taught in schools as an example of perfection.”

Clark nodded and left. He went and cleared his desk out without drawing attention to himself as he finished he went to Lois with a stapler. “I gotta go, just quit, dinner Thursday night?”

“You quit?”

He smiled and held out his stapler, “To remember me?”

“Dinner?” she repeated taking the proffered office equipment.

“Thursday? We can do the usual, order in, and you can bug Lex?” She nodded. “Cool, I have to go. See you Thursday.”

He walked out with his head held high and didn’t put on a fake trip or fumble on his way to the elevator. This time he walked the twelve blocks at a pace that no walker could even call brisk. He got home in under five minutes and Lex was in his office. He hung up the phone and smiled. “This is earlier than lunch.”

“I quit.”

“I know, I’m hard to resist.”

“No, yes. I mean, I quit my job.”

“Was it to get home sooner?”

“I quit before I got fired. Lex-”

“Well I would understand if you did. I’m like your version of crack. And I, for one, am against rehab: give in to your drug of choice.”

“Lex-”

“And your mom called. Aruba?”

“Or y’know Jamaica, Bermuda, Bahamas, Key Largo, Montego. Wherever.”

“So the new rule is that if it appeared in the Beach Boy’s Kokomo we’re allowed to move there?”

“Kind of… Lex, I’m going slowly mad trying to keep me, and Clark, and Superman separate. I mean, does Superman wear Chuck Norris PJs? Because I do, but Clark Kent the reporter is a loser with bad eyesight who can’t get a Supe story and probably wears cotton long johns and Supe would sleep naked.”

Lex watched him for a few moments and said, “You know they’re all you, right?”

“Well two out of the three kind of suck.”

“That guy on the news? The one who was talking about trying to convince his mother he eats? He’s just you in a silly outfit designed to make Bruce Wayne laugh. He was talking about your mom and my sense of humor. Because he’s you.”

“Yeah, well he’s a hassle and he never gives Clark Kent an interview. So he doesn’t even make me money.”

“Clark Kent the reporter? Why would he talk to him? Superman’s into Lois’ legs.”

“Hey! I am not into Lois’ legs or any other part of her.”

“Oh, you used ‘I’, careful, I might get confused and think you’re Superman.”

“Lex! Don’t be cute.”

“There’s a Lex Luthor Corp. office on Key West, and there’s a huge house which I own actually on Key Largo. I’ll call a press conference tomorrow say that I’m moving head quarters there indefinitely because I hate Superman’s city. Friday morning we can do the Death Ray thing and Friday evening you can fly us down in time to watch the sunset on the private beach attached to the estate.” He saw the look in Clark’s eyes and looked at his watch, “It’s been well over four hours, and you said ‘after work’ which this is because you aren’t going back there.” In the blink of an eye he had a lap full of Clark. He kissed his husband slowly and said, “I’m sorry I put that on the internet and added to your mental stress.”

Clark let out a long sigh, “Maybe it’s good, made me finally break and say what I’ve been needing to say for months.”

“What happened to honesty?”

“Well the reporter wanted to get a chance to impress the Chief, Supe just wants his city to be safe, so I was the only one losing my mind. I just need a second to breathe.”

“Well, in the Keys I hear we can perfect our chemistry and defy gravity… of course I’m always handy with a chem. set and you float out of bed once a week so it might be nothing new.”

“Are you quoting Beach Boys at me?”

“A little bit.”

“Take an early lunch and bring me to bed?” 

Lex leaned over Clark to hit his intercom that connected him to his main office, “Mercy, I’m taking an early lunch and I need a press conference for tomorrow.” He didn’t wait for an affirmation just tightened his hands on Clark’s ass and stood, carrying his lover easily. Into Clark’s ear he whispered, “Oh I wanna take you down to Kokomo. We’ll get there fast and then we’ll take it slow. That’s where we wanna go. Way down to Kokomo.” 

The next afternoon Clark headed out to get milk. He saw the crowd of press and looked down to make sure he was dressed as Clark Kent. In fact he was wearing his real clothes, neither an ill fitted cheap suit nor a monstrosity in primary colors, plus glasses. Unsure as to why they were there he walked out and gave them a half wave. They instantly crowded around him.

“Mr. Kent, is it true?”

With a strange feeling of déjà vu he asked, “Is what true? Lex and I are moving to the Keys.”

“No, the article on Governor Jerardie.”

“Oh, yes. Everything is true. It was fact checked thoroughly. The Planet would never publish something unsubstantiated. As you saw, we actually listed every factual source. It was a lot of digging, but once one was far enough in it is evident that the series of events occurred. We didn’t publish the names of some people, the women he assaulted were kept private but they disclosed their medical records, which you can view, moreover the dates of the trials show that he was accused, settled, and moved to have the cases sealed. But yes, every statement was substantiated.”

“Is it true that you left The Planet?”

“It was a mutual decision. It had nothing to do with the article. I respect and am very fond of the paper and the individuals I have worked with at the Planet. There is no bitterness in this parting.” He saw the obvious follow up question and said, “The Chief wanted me to do something I didn’t want to do. It’s obvious that the action he wants me to take would be beneficial to both my person and the paper. It wasn’t underhanded or devious. It was something I should have done and yet refused to do and am still refusing to do. Under the circumstances there was no choice: he had to fire me and I had to quit. I’m calling it a choiring. That’s spelled Q.U.I.R.I.N.G, just in case you want to use it.” People started laughing at the journalist humor so he continued, “It’s the amalgamation of quit and fire in verb form, conjugate accordingly.” He laughed too and then said, “Any other questions?”

One reporter raised his hand, the kid still had zits. “You’ve never become high profile but your writing is always fantastic and you have covered a lot of political and community news. Do you have suggestions for young journalists?”

Clark felt himself blush. “I’m not an expert. I can only tell you what works for me. I avoid pronouns, adverbs, and hyperbole because they lead to confusion and ridicule. Triple check your facts before handing it off to a fact checker, it’s just polite. I always use titles. If I’m writing about a Clair Jena I will write ‘Ms. Jena’. I know that’s not a common things but I like titles; writing ‘26 year-old Jena blah blah blah’ doesn’t feel correct to me. Also, I keep myself off the page. If I was to report on a footballer in a car accident I wouldn’t write ‘as someone who played football throughout my high school and college years this is very personal’ because I don’t think it’s interesting or pertinent. Readers don’t care about my opinion as an ex-quarterback they want the facts. I keep my own thoughts off the page. Personally, I found the news about the governor shocking and upsetting but that’s not the reporter. As a reporter I feel it is only my job to give the facts. That is not to say I wouldn’t report about public reactions but it isn’t my job to try and explain what those reactions should be. The public needs to reply not the person doing the reporting. The only advice I can give is that, if you’re going to be ‘quired’ go out with a good story.” People laughed again.

“The thing I’ve always liked about this city and its respectable publications is its discretion. Like any city we have rags like The Inquisitor. As a breed we are tenacious willing to go to great lengths to get the scoop. Yet, reporters I come into contact with are always respectful. While they might ask questions I don’t want to answer they are polite. After Lex and Superman have some scuffle I get the calls. But instead of ‘Do you think Lex is mad?’ I am asked how I feel about the situation and what my reaction is. And while it’s true that you’d most likely get the same information both ways, I’ve always appreciated that modesty. And it seems to be genuine integrity not just because I might hang up on you.” 

They laughed again and Clark smiled. “People here ask for statements, ask questions, I’ve never heard a journalist in this city throw insults into their questions. While we have at times recognized the public’s reactions we haven’t overtly brought them into the conversation. And I think the whole of respectable journalism deserves to be recognized for that. There are mud-rakers but I hope we will all stay above that. I need to go get milk and keep packing, so I guess this is ‘a see you later’ because when something of national interest happens in Florida I will see you there. We’ll all sit outside City Hall at four in the morning waiting for the statement. And we’ll be doing the same thing we’ve been doing for years: complaining about being cold and sending out scouts to find open coffee shops. But if we’re in Key Largo, I’ll bring thermoses.” They laughed one final time and Clark walked away, feeling a lot better about his life.


End file.
